Called Along the Way: A Spiritual Memoir

FRONT MATTER

Called Along the Way:

A Spiritual Memoir

Stephen W. Hiemstra

Endorsements

Have you ever wondered if the church in America is mortally wounded? Is God really dead as the infamous 1966 Time magazine cover reported? Stephen Hiemstra’s memoir offers evidence to the contrary. As a boy growing into a man during this tumultuous time in American history, God’s fingerprints were on Stephen’s life from the beginning. In direct opposition to the demonic secularism of our age, Stephen’s story shows how God works in and through the life of a modern human in a post-modern era.

Aaron Gordon

Pastor, Hillcrest Church

Monroeville, Pennsylvania

Reading a memoir by someone who knows himself well illuminates not only the writer’s life but also that of the reader. Stephen Hiemstra has taken a remarkable path through life, and his memoir, Called Along the Way: A Spiritual Memoir, provides that experience. Many times as I read his work I paused to reflect on how I faced similar choices as I grew and matured. Stephen’s memoir is especially rich because of the progression he made from his youth to his overseas experiences, his hard-won PhD in economics, and his career as an agricultural economist and then a financial economist, and finally his seminary training. That arc of time reveals how experiences at each stage of Stephen’s life prepared him for his calling to the ministry. The memoir invites each reader to consider the span of our lives and how circumstances, events, our predispositions and inclinations have led us to become who we are today.

Thomas H. Stanton

Attorney and Author

Johns Hopkins University

In Called Along the Way, Stephen Hiemstra gives us a glimpse into his journey from boyhood to manhood. He shares fond childhood memories, daring youthful escapades, unpleasant workplace experiences, as well as satisfying accomplishments. A man whose faith was integral to his life, he reveals the promptings of the Holy Spirit that led him to a second career as a minister. It’s a satisfying story that is still playing out.

Stephen C. Gabriel

Economist and Author

Farm Credit Administration

Stephen’s book, Called Along the Way, shares his life through a variety of interesting experiences. Stephen has spent time in the Washington metro area, Iowa, Michigan, New York, Puerto Rico and Germany. Raised as a Christian, he worked as an economist for many years. Then, in his 50’s, influenced by his sister and daughter, he was called to become a pastor.

Karen Hiemstra Reed

Boca Raton, Florida

An interesting book that friends, family, peers and anyone who has ever met Stephen would enjoy. It is a story of the twists and turns and accomplishments of one man, in whose life we can glimpse our own.

Ben and Colleen Stewart

Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada

Many of us go through life unaware of what it means, adding one experience after another as the years pile up. The Greek philosopher Socrates, after choosing death rather than exile from Athens or silence put this danger plainly: The unexamined life is not worth living.

Occasionally we have examples of lives measured with care. One example is a memoir written by a man who declares on his calling card his identity as Slave of Christ. With such a bold declaration of faith Stephen Hiemstra shares his life in Called Along the Way.

Stephen takes us through his life, sharing illustrations from his youth growing up in a religious family, his student days, his life as an economist, and his pathway to become minister of the gospel.

Stephen’s book shares the struggles and joys of life helping each of us to reflect for ourselves along the way.

Rev. Dr. John E. Hiemstra

West Nyack, New York

Stephen shares snippets from his life to illustrate how he was called to the ministry. The twists and turns of his life will be familiar to those who have started their journey in one direction, only to find themselves at a different point years later.

Sarah Hamaker

Author

Fairfax, Virginia

It was a joy to hear from my friend Stephen Hiemstra after so many years who worked as a fellow economist for the Economic Research Service (ERS) at U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), undertaking analysis for the federal government. As a young man, he listened well, was sensitive to the needs of others, and approached his assignments with skill and enthusiasm, uncommon even among PhD economists. Even editors knew that his publications required minimal editing,

I was not surprised to hear that he has devoted his senior years to ministry or that he had become a writer. Like Stephen, I left economics to pursue a career in photography.

Marshall H. Cohen

Photographer and Author of

Denmark: A Photographer’s Odyssey

Assiduously writing one’s memoirs or publishing a series of letters had long been a tradition for distinguished people, giving insight to their character to family, friends, and others who were affected by their lives. Doing so also provided such authors opportunities to reflect on their lives, prepare for mortality, make peace with God, and link themselves to future generations.

As the modern age of mechanical reproduction, and postmodern age of digital stimuli, have descended upon us, this esteemed tradition has fallen into abeyance. Instead, we live in an age of nihilism, characterized by, to paraphrase the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, as one where many communicate as with a sentence taken out of a paragraph with no reference to the text of the page on which it is written much less the book in which it is contained. When tweeting has replaced context, it is then refreshing to read about the life of someone I have known since our days together at ERS over thirty years ago.

Stephen’s life starts out as a series of dreams, punctuated by conscious choices made from God’s grace at extending free will to all of us. But, we are reminded of an underlying sense of evocative surrealism throughout Stephen’s book that Christ’s spiritual force is there with us and within us, opening doors and pointing the ways for us to choose to enter, after periods of reflection and discernment on the trials and tribulations of our lives.

Stephen writes that in this new, highly-subjective world, if words have no fixed meaning that we can all agree on, the potential for manipulation becomes enormous in the absence of God’s protection, especially if we do not do our homework. Books like this, especially about and/or by people we know personally give one pause to reflect on the direction of one’s own life, something not done often enough in the postmodern world.

Dale Leuck

Economist

U.S. Department of Agriculture

Dr. Hiemstra’s memoir captures his walk through life and his walk with the Lord that emerged along the way. His scriptural allusions help recount the major seasons of his life, guiding the reader and helping focus on the thesis and humanity of his work. His writing makes you feel as if you are watching his life unfold first-hand, even during his first glimpse of life as an innocent five-year old. Reading as been a joy.

Jessica Hiemstra

Teacher and Tutor in Math, Science, & Music.

Centreville, Virginia

Called Along the Way is a beautiful mix of poetry and prose that nudges the reader onward on a quest to understand the person behind the poetry; the man behind the prose. Each chapter is an experience that weaves the story of the writer through life phases until coming face to face with the almighty God. Funny at times; at others, mystifying and intriguing, Hiemstra opens up his life story for us to delve into, investigate, and learn from. It provides an excellent inside view of how God uses every facet of our lives to mold us and to use us for His glory.

Nohemi Zerbi

Chemical Engineer and Commissioned Lay Pastor

Faith Evangelical Presbyterian Church

Kingstown, Virginia

Our stories, when told, often become windows through which God’s reveals his fingerprints in our lives. Such is the case of Stephen Hiemstra’s story as it is told in his work, Called Along the Way. As you read it, you will not only come to understand his journey but become aware of the presence of God’s hand and grace in your own pilgrimage. This discovery is well worth the read.

J. Robin Bromhead

Senior Pastor

Centreville Presbyterian Church

Centreville, Virginia

Stephen’s spiritual journey is interesting because it has taken place along the pathway of enormous changes in America.

Jonathan Jenkins

Pastor, Kingerstown Lutheran Parish

Klingerstown, Pennsylvania

Copyright

CALLED ALONG THE WAY: A Spiritual Memoir

Copyright © 2017 Stephen W. Hiemstra.

All rights reserved. ISNI: 0000–0000–2902–8171

All rights reserved. With the exception of short excerpts used in articles and critical reviews, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in any form whatsoever, print or electronic, without prior written permission of the publisher.

T2Pneuma Publishers LLC

P.O. Box 230564, Centreville, Virginia 20120

www.T2Pneuma.com

Names: Hiemstra, Stephen W., author.

Title: Called along the way: a spiritual memoir / Stephen W. Hiemstra.

Description: Includes bibliographical references | Centreville, VA:T2Pneuma Publishers LLC, 2017.

Identifiers: ISBN 978-1-942199-25-0 (pbk.) | 978-1-942199-29-8 (Kindle) | 978-1-942199-17-5 (epub) | LCCN 2016920697

Subjects: LCSH Hiemstra, Stephen W. | Clergy—Biography. | Vocation, Ecclesiastical. | Christian biography. | Christian life. | BISAC BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal Memoirs | BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Religious.

Classification: LCC BR1725.H458 2017 | DDC 280/.4/0924—dc23

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version, Copyright © 2000; 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

The front cover image shows a linoleum block print by Allen Bjorkman (www.ReplicaPrints.com) and is used with permission. The image comes from a woodcut called a Nauis Socialis Mechanicorum (Social Ship of Mechanics) attributed to the artist Albrecht Dürer. This image also appears as an illustration in the book Stultifera Navis (Ship of Fools) by Sebastian Brant, published by Johann Bergmann in Basel, Switzerland in 1498.

I would like to thank my editors, especially Diane Sheya Higgins and Sarah Hamaker.

Wedding photograph by Marshall H. Cohen, used with permission.

Cover design by SWH.

Preface

During my tenure as camp counselor, one memory stands out: I helped two special needs Boy Scouts, Elmer and Freddy, pass their swim test. Both had previously mastered the mechanics of swimming; I merely assisted them in overcoming emotional obstacles that hindered their progress.

Elmer swam the American crawl in perfect form, but only in shallow water where his fingers touched the bottom. When I prodded him to venture into deeper water, he became violently upset because in his heart of hearts he believed swimming was a scam.

Freddie swam fine, but he loved being rescued by the lifeguard. He typically swam a lap or two in his swim test; then, a big smile came on his face as he pretended to drown. I still remember the horror on the faces of those watching me as I shouted at this kid, until he gave up his pretense, forgot about himself, and finished his swim test.

Aren’t we just like these two scouts when we hear God’s call? Swim in deeper spiritual waters? Who me, Lord? Stop focusing on myself and step out for Christ? Who me, Lord? I think the hounds of heaven have been after me all my life. Yet, the chaos of life frequently cloaked my awareness of God’s daily presence.

The cloak lifted one Sunday morning as my mind drifted during a long sermon in Spanish. I prayed to God: why did you bring me here? I have no Hispanic heritage or special language ability, and I try the patience of all who hear me preach. Why am I here?

God reminded me of the testimony of Nicky Cruz, whose story led me to faith in the film, The Cross and the Switchblade, who now appeared obviously Puerto Rican to my adult eyes and ears. This revelation surprised me because, at age thirteen when I answered the altar call, I had never met a Puerto Rican—to me, Nicky Cruz was just another New York gang member. In view of this revelation, if I am a fool for the Lord, I have been a fool since God called me to faith.

In his 1937 book, The Kingdom of God in America, Richard Niebuhr observed that all attempts to interpret the past are indirect attempts to understand the present and the future. If as Simon Chan (1998) writes our spirituality is lived belief, then examining how we have lived should reveal the theology of our hearts and minds (Jam 2:18–24Jam 2:18–24). In this memoir, I explore my past, not only to understand how I came to faith, but also to inform my call into pastoral ministry.

It is misleading to assume that faith comes naturally or that a call to ministry proceeds directly from an idyllic life. My life experience supports neither assumption. During the later years of my government career, these verses hung on my office wall in front of me:

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. (Isa 43:1–3)

Much like God called the Nation of Israel out of slavery to human masters, he calls us now out of slavery to shameful desires and sin. In this way, he blesses us so that we can bless others (Gen 12:3). Ministry is such a blessing.

In Called Along the Way I describe my faith journey from unbeliever to believer (part 1), from cultural Christian to active disciple (part 2), from disciple to awareness of call (part 3), and from seminary to early ministry (part 4). Unlike Adam and Eve, my story does not begin the Garden of Eden. If you too have struggled with your faith walk, then my story may offer solace.

Please join me.

Birth of Dream

As a child, a dream returned to me over and over where I felt suspended, neither awake or asleep, but paralyzed as if lost in time and place. Everything was fuzzy: neither light nor dark, hot nor cold, silent nor voiced. My limbs had a tingly feeling, like an arm that had fallen asleep or a leg that refused to support your weight. To describe it as a dream suggests that I might wake up, but this dream lingered refusing me the opportunity to stir, as if I faced a decision. Yet, what decision?

PART 1: AWAKENING

Formative Years

Iowa Snow

Snow is for jumping in and for making into balls and throwing.

Mom, why do I need a jumpsuit, a knit cap, and mittens?

Because the porch is cold and it is colder outside, my mother answered as she zipped me up.

But Mom, I don’t like mittens. Why can’t I wear gloves like you and Dad?

Your grandmother made these mittens and gave them to you to keep you warm while your father is in Korea. See—she attached them together with a string so that you won’t lose them. When you get older, we will get you some gloves—but gloves are made from leather and you can’t use them to make snowballs without ruining them. So for now, you need to use mittens!

Mom, I can put my shoes on myself! . . .

Pammel Court, Ames, Iowa

I ran, ran, ran—Mom was in the other room and the door was open—so I ran, ran, ran.

I ran around the buildings and in the alleys between corrugated huts where I played many times. Around and around I ran.

I found an open door and in I ran. A bulletin board stood in front of the counter and pool tables were everywhere. There in the Pammel Court community center, my mother found me and picked me up.

Ever Present

Time awake never ends in a continuous present with no tomorrow and no yesterday. Every waking hour my mother is present with me when I am sick in California.

Happiness means having friends and not being alone. In the daytime suffering from asthma, loneliness sneaks up on me when I look out over the bed covers. Waiting. Breathing the warm mist from the vaporizer.

What is wrong with me? I thought.

After my father plays his classical music in the evening, the alligator under my bed comes out and chases me around the room.

When my father comes; it hides.

Grandpa's Farm in Iowa

I’m going to Grandpa’s farm in Iowa.

Wandering up and down the aisles on the train in January 1958, the California Zephyr. People asked me and I told them—

I’m going to Grandpa’s farm in Iowa.

From Emeryville, California to Ottumwa, Iowa. Snow on the Rockies; deep ravines; a scary dark tunnel. But I mostly remembered—

I’m going to Grandpa’s farm in Iowa.

Why did people always lean forward in their seats to ask—‘where ya going?’—and smile when I tell them? I think. And why did I smile in thinking about it?

Maybe I smiled because of the cats on the farm. In the city, cats were forbiden—maybe because cats got to have birds and mice and wild stuff to eat . . .

Maybe I smiled because of the mulberry trees on the farm. In the city, mulberry trees are hard to find. I don’t think city folks even know about mulberries—they seem more like blueberry people.

Maybe I smiled because back on the farm we had Grandma’s chicken and noodles, and a box of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in the fridge. In the city, my mother fixed some great macaroni and cheese, but store-bought cookies taste dry and crunchy while fresh-baked cookies stay soft and moist. The farm was like having root beer and watermelon every day.

I smile thinking about hand pumps to pump, snow drifts to jump in, relatives to visit, and church services to dress up for. Where else do you learn about Daniel in the lion’s den and Jonah in the whale? Every day was an adventure on the farm.

But the big reason I smile is because on the farm everyone knew my name, listened to my stories, and helped me feel at home.

I’m going to Grandpa’s farm in Iowa.

Albany, California

At age four in 1958 in Albany, California, I had a bright red wagon like most boys and dreamed of riding my wagon down the hill outside our apartment. My mother told me not to ride it down the hill.

"You are a scaredy-cat. I double dare you," my two-year old sister, Diane, told me.

Tired of pushing